


Lunch Date

by ruleatlas



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, My First Fanfic, Pre-Canon, Short One Shot, Slice of Life, Trans Rhys, a hufflepuff rhys is cheered on by his slytherin best friends, at least since i was like 8 years old and but does that really count, is a good summary for this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 00:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11452626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruleatlas/pseuds/ruleatlas
Summary: Rhys meets up with Vaughn and Yvette to eat lunch and ponder on some moral dilemmas.At least, he's trying to.There's just someone in his seat.





	Lunch Date

            There was someone in his seat.

            There was someone in the Hub of Heroism who had taken his spot, and that was the last goddamn straw today.

            Rhys grit his teeth and took a slow breath in, trying to compose himself.

            Maybe they were new, he tried to reason with himself. Maybe they were some lost interns who had _no_ idea that this was his usual spot, the spot he had worked so hard to claim with Vaughn and Yvette. The spot that took months of gathering authority amongst his coworkers, of staring down his peers to claim. And it was such a nice spot, too; most of the seats in the cafeteria were too far away from the kitchen and your plate got cold on the way back, or too close where you could see the food being made—disgusting—but this? This spot? It was perfectly balanced. And it was theirs—the three of theirs.

            Fingers clenched around the edges of his tray, he let out that breath and began to stride over to the stolen table.

            Even if it was an accident, they had no right to keep the spot.

            He stood before the table and cleared his throat loudly, narrowing his eyes at the group before one looked up at him.

            “Well…goooood morning, everyone,” he said in a false cheery voice, putting on his best Hyperion smile. Maybe they would respond best to some kindness, a gentle reminder of their place.

            The three at the table continued poking at their food for a moment, two not even stopping their conversation. The third, the one that did look up at Rhys, didn’t look very impressed. “It’s afternoon, buddy,” they said, rolling their eyes.

            Rhys faltered, looking to his tray for a moment before back to the kid with their nicely pressed pants, their perfectly shaved undercut, their stupid amused face. “Y-yeah, well, right, but, either way…just…wanted to welcome you to Helios, since, you know, you must be new here…” he continued, placing his tray down onto table. He placed his hands on his hips, lips staring to curl down. “Considering where you’re sitting, I mean.”

            The other two diners looked up from their meals. “Where we’re sitting?” the brunette girl echoed, her fork hitting her tray with a _clink_. Rhys kept his pose, kept trying to stare her down, even as he noticed she definitely looked just a _wee_ bit stronger than him, and just a _wee_ bit angrier.

            He gulped down any fear, trying to think of what a certain someone would do in this situation. But that was…probably vent them all into space. And Rhys wasn’t quite powerful enough to do that. Yet, he assured himself.

            “If it’s an accident, it’s fine, I get it…it happens to newbies all the time,” he continued, laughing a weak laugh that quickly became a cough. He covered his mouth for a moment, taking the chance to look away from their judging stares for a moment. God. Why were interns these days literately made of Kevlar? “But this spot…is mine.”

            The third of the group, the guy who had kept silent started looking around him in a panic, eyes wide. He leaned forward, glancing back at the sleek back of the chair. “Oh man...I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head before continuing to examine the chair.

            Finally…Rhys sighed, shifting out of his power pose to run his hand through his hair, smoothing it back. “It’s fine, as I said…easy—“

            “What’s your name?” the repentant one interrupted him.

            He stopped, mid-hair smooth and blinked a few times. “Oh, I’m Rhys. I’m middle manager of—“

            The third’s words cut through his again: “That’s funny.”

            “Funny? W-what are you talking about?”

            “I’m talking about…the fact I don’t see your name anywhere on this spot,” he said, prompting the other two to burst into laughter.

            Rhys felt his cheeks color, his hands curling into fists. He wished there was some open vent here, some way he could just shove them out into the cold space surrounding Helios—just wait—

            “What’s going on here?”

            The voice that echoed throughout the hub was enough to quell the laughter, enough to make Rhys stand up that much straighter, hands now at his side.

            Yvette stood behind Rhys. He could tell she had one hand on her hip, her eyebrows raised, a deep frown on her face just from the tone of her voice. It wasn’t the first time that she had used that tone, nor was it a tone that Rhys was completely unfamiliar having directed at _him_. He knew how it could freeze blood in your heart, mid-pump, raising the hair on the back of your neck.

            Her heels clicked on the linoleum as she marched past Rhys and up to the end of the table, placing her coffee down before crossing her arms against her chest. Her motions were fluid, confident.

            “I asked a question,” Yvette said, glancing around at the three. “I think it’s only in your best interest to answer one of your superiors.”

            There was no need for her to explain why; the fact that she threw around such threats so casually was enough to make them rise from their seats. At least, all of them except the one with the stupidly nice undercut. “Look, we got here first,” they said, rolling their eyes. “We don’t have Reez, little manager—“

            “Middle manager. And it’s…” Rhys would have continued to correct, but he trailed off as Yvette glanced back at him and gave him a death glare.

_Let me handle this_ , he could hear her say.

            “Well, I don’t know where you think you are,” Yvette started, “but this is Hyperion. And in Hyperion, your time here _matters_. When you’ve been here for four years and never had a mark on your record? You’re golden. But when you’re a new accountant nobody who’s already got caught pocketing office supplies? You’re not in good shape.”

            The gossip train had to have been moving fast since these three started. Rhys shook his head, mimicking Yvette’s arms-across-the-chest pose and titling his head back. He looked down his nose on the other two who shuffled their weights anxiously now that their friend had decided to pick a fight. _Haha, not so tough now, right?_ he thought smugly, enjoying the way one’s eyes kept flitting about the room.

            “Just logically speaking, you should get a move on. Because I’m hungry and I want my lunch and I want it in _my_ seat.”

            Undercut glared, but rose from the spot, hands tight on their tray. “This isn’t over,” they said, raising up a hand and pausing before their fingers bent awkwardly to form the shape of…a gun. “Pshew,” they hissed, faking to fire at Yvette before last-minute aiming off to the right. One of the other accountants jumped from the imaginary bullet’s path, glaring at the shooter.

            “Come on,” she said, shaking her head.

            The three younger workers shuffled off with their trays with one last glare. Yvette kept eye contact the whole time, never flinching.

            “…fucking accountants,” Rhys said as soon as the three were out of earshot.

            “Fucking newbies,” Yvette corrected. She sat at the end of the table, settling back in her chair and crossing her legs. “You wouldn’t want to forget about our favorite accountant, right, Rhys?”

            Rhys sighed and took his seat across from her, spreading out and glaring around the room. His binder was itching him now, sweat gathering from that confrontation. He tried to subtly adjust without causing much attention, but Yvette was still watching him.

            “What about me?” asked Vaughn, coming straight from the food lines to slide in between Rhys and Yvette. He plopped down in his seat, audibly scraping the tiles as he pulled up to the table. “And thanks, Yvette! Glad to know I’m still the favorite.”

            “Rhys was being bullied by some baby accountants.”

            “I was _not_ being bullied! I just…I-I was putting them in their place and they didn’t like that,” he protested, pursing his lips into a pout. “I had it under control.”

            Vaughn laughed and immediately picked up his fork, poking his potato salad. “Yeah, those three are…something else. I saw them at their orientation today and they already made one of the interns cry. I’m pretty sure the three just looked at him wrong.”

            Yvette tapped her heals on the floor, _tap tap tap._ “I’m not hearing a thank you, Rhys.”

            Sighing, he rolled his eyes and leaned forward to grab his tray, pulling it towards himself. “Thank you, Yvette.” His tone was strained—but it wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful. It was just that there was no way he could let this go to Yvette’s head any more than it already had.

            “You can thank me by buying me lunch,” she replied, staring down at her coffee. “A girl needs more than this to get through another day. And besides, I didn’t bring my wallet.”

            “There was no way you knew this was going to happen! You were just _expecting_ lunch,” Rhys said, the whine in his voice growing more exaggerated at each revelation.

            Vaughn scooped the food around his tray compartment, piling it up before spreading it all back out. “Better you than me,” he said. His lips twitched up in a playful way, as he reached up with his free hand to hit a button on his glasses. “Besides, I’m running some numbers now.”

            The two looked at each other and back at Vaughn. “You’re always running numbers,” Rhys pointed out.

            Yvette looked up, lost in memory. “Yeah, I mean…you weren’t even allowed to leave your desk the first month you were here, remember? Until you got those glasses, your computer was your ball and chain.”

            “God, don’t remind me…”

            Rhys reached into his pocket, pulling out a worn leather Hyperion wallet. “Look, I’ll treat you, but that’s _it_ for this week. You keep asking me and I-I’m still...saving. You know.”

            Yvette picked up her glass, her long, orange nails shining from the LED lights overhead. “Saving? Rhys, don’t tell me you’re serious about that…robot arm still.” Her disapproval stung, especially the way that she narrowed her eyes at him.

            “And the echo eye implant,” Vaughn reminded her. “I don’t…get _why_. But that too.”

            Rhys scowled and looked off into the lunchroom. He could see more of the afternoon crowd shuffling in now, finger guns blazing as they greeted each other.

            “And…I don’t know. I was thinking some other surgeries. Maybe. Possibly. It’ll cost a lot. I have to decide which ones I want to get first.”

            He looked down at his empty spot at the table. Was it hot in the cafeteria? Was anyone else sweating? Rhys drummed his fingers on the lunch table, an erratic beat. The pause felt too long, but the other two just stared right at him, Vaughn frowning and Yvette pursing her lips.

            “You mean…?” Vaughn started, looking at Yvette.

            “…finally getting them taken off?” she finished, looking back at Vaughn before staring at Rhys.

            Nodding, he took a deep breath in. “I mean, you know, while I’m getting a robot arm and eye, might as well just…get it all over with. No one will notice how long I’m out then, since I’ll have…multiple surgeries going on.” When he spoke, he gestured vaguely at his chest before dropping his hand and continuing to drum on the table. “I wouldn’t be able to stand it if Vasquez started poking around. So maybe.”

            “Maybe? I mean, Rhys, you’re telling me you’re going to be a friggin’ _cyborg_ before you get your—“ Vaughn stopped, looking around the lunchroom before leaning in. “Your chest surgery?”

            Rhys shrugged. “I mean—“

            “No. No. Do not even finish that sentence, Rhys,” Yvette cut in. “There is no way that you’re getting that surgery last. You’ve wanted it for years!”

            “Yeah, but...it won’t help me get ahead. With the cybernetics I’ll be able to program faster and better, and hacking will be a cinch,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

The idea calmed him; being more immersed in his work, being able to get a leg-up on the other guys in his department. Sure, other employees had implants, but they were mostly minor, like Vasquez’s pinky finger. This would be his _whole_ arm. His whole arm. Rhys stopped leaning back and sat up straight in his chair. God. Sometimes he forgot about how much would change with that. He swallowed hard, not looking at Yvette or Vaughn.

            Yvette’s glare, however, still penetrated Rhys. “Do _not_ do that, Rhys. You should get the other surgery. If you’re going to be crazy with this cybernetic thing, at _least_ get the top surgery with it.”  She took a long sip of her coffee, the steam fogging up her glasses. “You’ll regret it.”

            Rhys sighed, knowing she was right; Yvette often was, as she liked to remind them. “But that’s going to cost me.”

            “Do you have enough savings? You _have_ to have enough saved up by now,” Vaughn said. “I know what you’re making, Rhys, and it isn’t chump change. _Maybe_ compared to Henderson it is, but I mean…” He trailed off, shrugging.

            The table beside them was getting up, finishing up their lunch hour, and Rhys still hadn’t grabbed anything to eat yet. He watched as the group of three women rose from their seats, holding their trays and coffee cups to their chests as they strode off.

            He was stalling; he knew he was, but it was so hard not to, to just spit out what was on his mind. “Look, I just…I have a plan. But—I don’t know. I don’t know if I want to go through with it.”

            Yvette quirked her eyebrows up. “What do you mean you ‘don’t know’? Rhys you’ve wanted this for years. If you have a plan, use it.”

            “I know, I _know_!” he said, exasperated this time. “It’s just that…they found some eridium down on Pandora but it’s…mostly located under a town, and no one’s giving up their land, even as we’re offering more and more cash. It’s getting ridiculous,” Rhys said, leaning back in the chair. He pressed his fingers to his eyelids, rubbing across until he pinched the bridge of his nose.

            “Then…you make them move?” Vaughn offered up, eyeing Rhys with confusion. “Just portion out some of the budget to clearing out the land, chasing off the bandits, whatever, and you got your mining deal, right?”

            “And you probably end up with more profits, anyway. I don’t know why we bother negotiating to begin with,” Yvette said.

            “It’s the next step. I know it is. Just move in and clear them all out, but…I guess I just…it feels wrong.”

            “What? To clear out homicidal maniacs?” Yvette finished up the last of her coffee, and placed her cup on the table none too gently. “Look, would this mining deal cut you enough profit to get these surgeries?”

            Rhys nodded, opening his mouth to speak.

            “No. Hush. Think about this Rhys. You are _Hyperion_. You are a middle manager _this_ close to getting to the top of your department, and _this_ close to finally getting the surgery you’ve been yammering about for years—“

            “Okay, I haven’t been yammer—“

            “I said to be quiet, Rhys.” Yvette eyed him with a hard stare. “Why would you give up _now_? These are your dreams. And if you’re not going to think about yourself, remember that you’ve promised me _and_ Vaughn that you’re heading straight to the top. What is going on?”

            Rhys looked down at his hand on the table once more, tensing his shoulders and letting out another sigh. “Because…I don’t know. I heard some engineers talking. Like, some that have actually been down _there_ —down to Pandora—and some were saying…they don’t just chase them out. As in…they kill them. And I’m telling myself, ‘Okay, whatever, it’s bandits. They’re bandits.’ But a few mentioned…kids. That there are actual children down there. Families. I don’t know. I don’t know if there are even actual families in this town where the mining would be, but…” he trailed off and shook his head. “It just feels weird. Wrong. To kill anyone in that town because I want these surgeries.”

            The table was silent for a moment; Yvette kept her fingers around her mug while Vaughn stared down at his tray, ignoring the alerts that ran across his glasses.

            “But…I mean, they’re still _bandit_ children, aren’t they?” Vaughn said. “They’re down on Pandora, come on…”

            “And it isn’t like we know that’s true,” Yvette added. “And even if it is, this isn’t about them. They had their chance to leave, and even make a profit from it. But they’re not budging. That’s their fault.”

            Rhys looked between his friends, trying to absorb their words, to really take it in. Bandits. They were terrible, lawless people down there, and…Hyperion was making the planet better. Making all of Pandora better.

            “Think about what you get out of this, too, Rhys. Think about those surgeries. And all the lunches you’ll be buying me and Vaughn once you get that promotion.”

            Rhys swallowed hard, closing his eyes and trying to envision his life after all of this. Envision life climbing the ladder, of getting close to the top. From code monkey to manager. From binding each day to…simply slipping a shirt on.

            “Maybe they don’t kill them, they just chase them off. Maybe they only kill some of them as a warning. Maybe they’d all just kill each other anyway,” she continued. “That isn’t your department, Rhys. You just do what you need to do.”

            Vaughn nodded, looking from Yvette to Rhys. “She has a point. I mean…it’s up to you, but, bro, you know she does.”

            In one smooth motion, Yvette pushed her chair from the table, standing up and smoothing out her pencil skirt. “You can think on it while you’re getting me lunch, anyway. You promised,” she reminded him.

            “And I’m going to be getting seconds,” Vaughn said, a little sing-song in his tone as he followed Yvette.

            Rhys paused, looking down at the wallet in his lap. The bold, black _H_ shone in the LED lights that hung from the ceiling, the emblem streaked from the sweat of his fingers tracing over it.

            _Hyperion_.

            This is what it meant to be Hyperion.

            This is what it meant to fight for yourself.

            He stood from the table, running his fingers over the _H_ once more before he decided what he needed to do.


End file.
